Hitsugaya's story
by puddingcups
Summary: Oneshot about Hitsugaya's past and his feelings of despair. Violence. Hitsugaya was abused as a child. How he dealed with it and his feelings then and now. Better than the summary says it is:


10th Divison captain Hitsugaya Toushirou was contrary to what was often thought of him. He was a child prodigy and had worked his way up to captain level swiftly. Surpassing many of his friends and tackling difficulties effortlessly whereas others had struggled with and had a grueling time solving. His strength was not to be underestimated though he was very much younger than any other captains. People thought of him as tough, childish and unbecoming of a captain. Many were jealous and hated him.

He could not however for the life of his figure out why people just could not accept him as a captain. Why were they jealous? He had worked his way up. It was not as if he simply bribed Yamamoto taichou or cheated in any way. He put his sweat and blood into everything, he was just different from them. To them, becoming a captain was a dream but they were simply not too desperate about it. In other words, they were okay with not becoming one. Of course they wanted to be promoted to higher ranks but none were very serious about their dreams.

Hitsugaya Toushirou was different. He needed to rise to the top. He needed to show everyone he could do it. He needed people to recognize his existence, to respect him as a captain, despite his looks and age. He just wanted to be accepted, to fit in, to protect others with his power.

As easy as it seemed to others, reaching his dream was not that way. Hitsugaya had faced many hardships. Sure, he overcame the physical difficulties in no time. But deep inside him, he was struggling. He was often upset when he was mocked. Flashbacks kept echoing through his mind whenever he felt his confidence fall and lost himself in the darkness of his past.

He was thankful for his vice captain though. On the first few days she was like the others, whispering to her friends; no doubt he was the center of their discussion. But the bond between them grew closer as time passed. With her, he felt alive once again, he felt he was needed, even if it was just to do her paperwork. He felt thankful and glad that someone had acknowledged him and appreciated his existence. He felt his life was more valuable after he met her.

He could not explain why, but he needed her as well. She brightened up his days when he had bad nightmares, she cheered him on and she made him smile with the silly things she did. He felt he had discovered a new feeling-love. Never had he experienced such a warm significance in his life.

It was quite a similar feeling to what he felt when he was young. His parents had told him they loved him with all their heart and would protect them with their lives on the line. But what happened next he could never comprehend, however smart he was. They stopped caring for him. They totally changed personalities it seemed. It was so scary. They started to yell every half an hour over the slightest things and they ignored him as much as they could.

It was terrible, he remembered, to feel treasured and cherished for one minute then hated and disgusted at the next. He remembered his blood freezing, his heart palpitating wildly against his chest, threatening to break through as he stared at his mother, feet rooted to the ground in terror. His body was trembling, he felt so very cold. He knew the war was going on and it was getting worse as time passed, for many in his village had died and they were losing to their enemies. He thought it was that that caused his parents' ultimate fury and rage. But despite how desperately he tried convincing himself it had nothing to do with him, deep down he knew, his parents hated him. Their intense hatred could not be brushed aside or disguised as the fear and anger because of the war. It was directed towards him. As clear as an arrow hitting the bullseye.

From the day they changed, he hid in his room and found himself repeatedly crying himself to sleep. He could not remember exactly what happened on that ill-fated day. Neither could he bring to mind anything he had done to create such abhorrence.

It was two weeks later that they started to hit him. He could not grasp why they loathed him so much. All he knew was that he was frightened. They hit him with a leather belt, leaving deep ugly scars on his pristine white skin. It was shocking for they had never laid a finger on him before. He thought he was dreaming but the smarting pain and throbbing of his head were signs that everything was indeed very real. He wanted to run, to escape but he was too terrified. He hid but they found him. So he gave in and allowed them to abuse him however they wanted, while he closed his eyes and forced himself into another world of his own, where darkness ceased to exist and there was rainbows and happiness all around.

He was pissed. Down right sickened at himself reacting so cowardly, so timidly, not being able to stand up for himself. He could not believe he had allowed himself to be tormented and could not do anything. He felt so helpless and great fear. His mind was like a sea of tidal waves; he was young but so disturbed, so deeply scarred and dismayed. He felt so powerless and weak, so confused and trapped. He wanted to be free, free from the tangles of feelings and the horror he was leaving in.

One night, his wishes were finally answered. The moonlight shined through the broken glass window in his room and fell onto his bony thin and pale form. He hugged his knees and lowered his head, praying for someone, anyone to help. He was no longer upset or frightened; as time passed he had numbed his feelings and descended deep into his own world. He was no longer much aware of anything going on around him. Malnourished and battered, his body was beginning to shut down. The door slammed shut, threatening to break off its hinges as footsteps entered the house. Hitsugaya smiled for the first time in many months. Deep inside him, he felt it, the end had come, and he was happy.

He wept tears of joy as he thanked fate for granting his wish. He was going to be saved and he could not help feeling a little excited for the last blow to strike his head, for his cuts and gashes to tear open at the strike of yet another lashing of the belt and for the final puddle of blood to gush and spew out, staining the floors.

He was hardly conscious when the two figures approached him, belt in hand. Neither did he feel any pain when dark red blood escaped from him, dripping onto the ground, glistening in the moon light. There was no pain when he felt his bones break as he was swung towards the wall. He felt blissful and elated that this was his demise.

Hitsugaya Toushirou brought himself back to reality, violently quivering from the memory of his repulsive, atrocious childhood. He lost his composure and dropped his head onto the table, sobbing into his arms when a hand reached out to him and squeezed his shoulder. He was glad for having met Matsumoto. She understood his pain and agony.


End file.
